


slap shot

by bensolosgirlfriend



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hockey AU, Reylo - Freeform, Smut, Twitter Prompt, if Rey doesn’t cum Ben doesn’t cum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bensolosgirlfriend/pseuds/bensolosgirlfriend
Summary: Prompt: NY Rangers defenseman Ben Solo has been suspended for two games over a nasty penalty. To get him and the team some good publicity, his agent Rose arranges a date with HBO show breakout star Rey Johnson. The internet goes wild when she shows up at his next game wearing his jersey.OR hockey star Ben Solo goes on a date with actress Rey Johnson after being banned on the ice for two weeks.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 21
Kudos: 271





	slap shot

Rose chases after Ben towards the locker rooms. He knows it’s her by the flurried clicking of her heels and the stressed huffing of her breaths. Shyly, she calls, holding her pencil skirt down with her hands, “Ben.”

Ben decidedly ignores her. He would have outrun her by now if he wasn’t wearing his skates, padding along on the center of his feet. After so many years on skates he’s comfortable enough walking in them, but running? He’s not sure. Still, he’s going as fast as he can, nearly barreling towards the locker rooms, to his cozy socks and fresh clothes and maybe a burning hot shower before he escapes to his apartment for the night, for the next two weeks. 

_“Ben,”_ she hisses, this time. It sends a shiver up his spine. He just can’t _deal_ with being in trouble right now. He can’t _deal_ with another lecture from Rose. He can’t _deal_ with being off the ice for the next two games. His lot in life is to avoid _dealing_ with things. 

Her heels screech to a halt. It nearly sends him skidding to stop, a few yards away from the locker room. Instead, he pauses on his skates as gracefully as possible, waiting to see what her next move is. She clears her throat, and this time _yells,_ “Benjamin Solo!”

He almost whines. He runs a gloved hand through his hair, the one that isn’t holding his cracked helmet. Still, he thinks, you should see the other guy. He turns around toward his publicist with a deep frown on his face. “Hi, Rose.”

“You know we need to talk,” she says, and for such a little person, she’s kind of terrifying. He’s all well and glad that his mother introduced him to her, because Rose does a _stellar_ job, given what she has to work with, but she may be a little too scary for his tastes. “I will follow you into that locker room.”

He knows she will. Nothing has stopped her before, at least, given the amount of times that Rose has just missed seeing his dick by the turn of his own ass. So, he says, “what would you like to talk about?”

“Everyone in America thinks you’re terrifying,” she states.

“They should meet you.”

She huffs a laugh before continuing, “what the hell am I going to do with you, Ben?”

He shrugs, his padded shoulders rising. “He was a dick.”

“I’m sure he was. Did you have to knock his teeth out?”

“I wouldn’t be the first.”

“You might be the last after shattering the last few in the back.” She is really menacing, he thinks, like a small dog, as she assesses him. She doesn’t shake when she barks. “They’re going to eat you alive.”

“Not if I leave through the garage,” he argues.

“They’ll be waiting outside your apartment,” she says, “ready with the headline _Ben Solo: Dreamy Heartthrob or Deadly Murderer?_ Give me a break.”

“He’s not dead.”

“You’re right, he looks much worse than that.”

“So what do we do, then, Rose?” he huffs. “I’m sure you have a game plan.”

“Well,” she says, and she looks him up and down, “we need to make you look less like a murderer and more like a heartthrob.” 

He rolls his eyes. “And how do we suppose we do that?”

“We need to get twitter to back off the murderer content, whether or not they think it’s sexy, and focus on the sweetheart,” she assesses. That makes his frown deepen. He doesn’t understand twitter, but Rose says it’s very important, and that he has a large, young following on there that boosts his sales and keeps him comfortable. A few waves at some teenagers at games should put him back in good standing, he thinks she’ll say. 

He won’t do it. He won’t be the hockey player that waves at girls half his age because they think he’s _cute_ or whatever. He’s a grown man. 

Rose sighs. “Go get changed, take the garage out, go home. I’ll text you, and figure this out.”

“Thank you, Rose,” he says, with a smirk, and now she’s the one rolling her eyes. 

“Just remember to do what I say,” she says, walking back towards the rink. “And stay out of trouble.”

Ben doesn’t respond as he walks into the locker room. He checks out his own blooming, black eye, and makes sure no teeth are cracked. Even though they all seem fine, he’s still spitting a little blood. He changes into his softest sweatpants and puts his sliders on over his coziest socks. He’ll shower at home, and avoid as many conversations as possible. The locker room is empty, for now, so he fishes for his keys, and backpack, and races toward the garage to his mustang to get the hell out of here.

* * *

**@bens-hoelo:** i want ben solo to murder me like he did @TheRealSnapWexley tonight

**@bensleftbicep:** omg did anybody see his SMIRK when he got kicked off the ice !!!!!!!!

**@softforsolo:** i miss our soft boy solo :( he’s so mad lately. i want to hug him

* * *

It’s almost two AM when Rose texts him, and he knows that Rose knows he’ll be up, watching recaps of the games and watching how he played, cringing most of the way through. 

**Rose:** you have a date tomorrow night

**Ben:** ????

**Rose:** just go to Maz’s tomorrow at 8 pm and look for Rey Johnson

**Ben:** Who? 

**Rose:** she’s tall and British and will know who u are dw

**Ben:** I wasn’t worried.

**Rose:** relax. will talk to u tomorrow xoxoxo

* * *

Ben doesn’t leave his house until 7:45 pm the next night, agoraphobic as always. He dresses in his nicest button down and slacks, with his shiniest shoes. He’s nervous. He made the mistake of googling Rey Johnson.

Rey Johnson is twenty-three-years-old, an actress, and way too hot for him. Tall and beautiful, with a sculpted body and the bounciest chestnut hair he’s ever seen, a few flicks through google images and he’s become a sucker for green eyes and a smile that fills up her whole face. He’s dated pretty girls before, even a few models, but nobody as sharp and gorgeous as Rey Johnson. 

He’s screwed.

He knows it’s her immediately when he pulls up to Maz’s. She’s in a tight, black dress, with her hair pulled back, all collarbones and thin neck. She’s got on killer heels that she walks in perfectly and she’s a little less intimidating when Ben realizes how much smaller she actually is than him. She might be taller than most women, but she’s no match for all of Benjamin Solo.

He checks his hair one last time in his rearview mirror, artfully messy and a little curly, before turning off his car and making his way towards maybe the most adorable woman he’s ever seen.

She lights up before he can even greet her. She scurries up to him, with her large smile and her rosy cheeks, and wraps him in a hug that’s too familiar. “Ben! It’s so nice to meet you!”

He awkwardly returns her hug, but she doesn’t seem offended. She pushes her hair behind her ears and her smile is so enchanting that he forgets how to speak for a moment. “Uh, hi, Rey. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“You don't _look_ that scary,” she says, teasingly. It makes his smirk twitch. “I don’t see any fangs or horns.”

“I have some nasty canines,” he offers.

“Smile for me.” He does, toothy and a little goofy. It makes her laugh. “You do have fangs!” she cheers. “Now I know what to look out for.”

It makes him smile a little, too. “I think Rose got us a reservation.”

“I took care of it, actually,” she says. “Come on, before anybody notices us.”

Ben follows after her into the building. The hostess brings them to an intimate table in the corner, complete with a small, lit candle and a fresh basket of bread. “Have you been here before?”

Rey nods. “Maz has the _best_ vodka sauce.”

“And the best vodka,” he muses with a laugh. 

“I don’t drink, actually,” she says, but she adds quickly, “but you totally can! It doesn’t bother me at all.”

“I don’t think I need a drink tonight,” he says, with a little smile, just for her. She returns it. 

She leans over the table then, and even closer, he can see how perfectly clear and green her eyes are, how full and soft her lips look. “I’m really glad Rose finally set us up.”

“Finally?” he asks.

She looks a little embarrassed. “Yeah, well, I’ve only been trying to get Rose to give you my number, for like, a month now.”

He raises an eyebrow, and she blushes. “Really?”

She shrugs. “You look good on the ice.”

“Thanks.”

“And off the ice, for that matter,” she adds with a teasing grin. “I’m happy you said yes.”

“Me too,” he says. The waiter comes at exactly that moment, and Ben frowns, just when it felt like it was going somewhere. He takes their orders and Rey orders the vodka sauce like she raved about before, immediately reaching for the bread and eating like she’s starving before reaching for another piece. “Hungry?”

She laughs, pleasant and sweet. “I’m sorry! I eat like a monster. Food is like, my love language.”

Ben carefully pulls apart a piece of bread for himself. “It’s cute, actually.”

She blushes. “I’ll eat some more, then.”

Dinner goes perfectly--almost _too_ perfectly, Ben thinks, but good things _are_ allowed to happen to him, even if it doesn’t feel like it all the time. He asks Rey all kinds of questions, where she’s from, “Jakku,” what she likes to do for fun, “I bake, like, all the time,” and how many siblings she has, “I’m, uh, an only child.” He wants to know everything about her, from her favorite color to her favorite band to even her shoe size, maybe, because she’s too adorable and painfully pretty and eats like she’ll never eat again. 

He doesn’t want the night to end when the check comes. He takes care of it even if she insists she can, and she thanks him when he walks her out of the restaurant, a hand on her lower back.

They stand in silence for a few moments outside of the restaurant. She sighs. “There were paps in there.”

“There always are,” he says.

“It’s like, I can’t even enjoy a date,” she whines. “And I did--enjoy the date, I mean.”

His lips curl into a smile. “Me too.”

“You know, I live right around the block,” she says, carefully. “Do you like tea?”

Ben doesn’t like tea. “I love tea.”

“Come on,” she says, and wraps her hand in his. They begin walking towards a residential area full of brick, Brooklyn lofts only a few blocks away from where they had dinner. Rey talks to him about her job, about moving here to work for HBO, about how well the show is doing. He listens intently. He doesn’t talk about his job. He doesn’t tell her he’s out for the next two weeks, though he’s sure she knows. Given how close he’s deduced Rose and Rey are, it’s not like Rose wouldn’t have told her.

“This is me,” she says, entering a low rise building with a few floors of lofts. She presses for the elevator and smiles at him. “It was the first place I looked at, and I fell in love.”

“Do you film in Manhattan?” he asks.

“Mostly,” she says. “A few scenes on Long Island, too. You play in Manhattan, right?”

“Yeah, MSG.” He shifts on his feet, a little awkwardly, before entering the elevator with her. He can smell her perfume now, light and floral, endlessly enticing. If he were a different man, he would grab her, kiss her, press his open mouth against her exposed neck. Instead, he continues to speak, “do you like hockey?”

She smirks. “I like you.”

He can feel the blush raise on his cheeks. “So not a huge hockey fan?”

“Not really,” she admits, as he follows her out of the elevator towards the end of the hall. “Rose has shown me videos of you playing. I don’t know much about hockey, but if it has to do with running people down, you’re _amazing.”_

He laughs. “Something like that.”

She unlocks the door to her loft. “Home sweet home.” It’s small, filled with furniture, and smells like a citrus plug in. He might not know her that well, yet, but it’s very her, with little trinkets and probably accidental paraphernalia left out on the table. “Sorry about that,” she says, with a flustered little smile. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen.”

He trails after her towards the kitchen. She goes about setting up a teapot and two mugs. “Chamomile or black?”

“Black, I guess.”

“Milk and sugar?”

“Sure.” He looks around the kitchen, where he finds a Tiffany blue stand mixer, and an array of pots, and pans, and cookie sheets that make him think she wasn’t lying about the baking. 

She makes their tea and invites him to sit with her on her couch, stacked with homey pillows and a few, soft blankets. “How’s your tea?” she asks after taking a long sip. 

He hasn’t tasted it yet. “Good, thank you.” He moves a little closer to her. “Thank you for inviting me up.”

“My pleasure,” she says. She places her tea on the coffee table and he does, too. She looks like she’s going to say something, but, instead, she presses a soft kiss to Ben’s lips.

He’s surprised, at first, but catches on quickly. He wraps his fingers around her neck and leans into her, and what was a soft kiss turns fiery quickly. She sucks on his lower lip, and presses her tongue into his mouth. She tastes like chamomile tea and he doesn’t seem to mind it as much when a pretty girl is leaving the taste in his mouth. 

She crawls into his lap, and his hands move from her neck to her hips as she straddles him. She’s a wonderful kisser, not too much tongue and just enough nibbling on his bottom lip that leaves him half-hard and wanting. She moans into his mouth when he presses his tongue into her’s and it’s entirely too delicious, the sounds she makes against him. He squeezes her hips tighter and starts pressing kisses against her cheek, and jaw, and neck while she sighs, slowly grinding into him enough that he groans.

Ben presses a long kiss into the space between her neck and shoulder, and she giggles. It makes him kiss her again, and again. So she grinds into him, a little harder, and an embarrassing moan leaves his lips that makes her grind even harder. It feels perfect, the friction, her warm body rubbing against his hardness. She’s small and flawless, the flare of her hips fitting snugly in his large hands. He never wants her to move, until she pulls him down onto the couch so he’s on top of her, legs between hers, cock against her warm center. 

“Am I moving too fast?” she asks, between soft, whiney breaths.

“Not at all,” he says, kissing her again. He never wants to stop. Her lips are so soft, mouth so warm and plush, and he could listen to her sigh for the rest of his life. She wraps her legs around him tight, like a vice, and he wonders what it would be like if they weren’t as dressed as they are, if his cock was pressed up against her perfect, pink cunt. It makes him groan.

Then she’s pushing him away, but before he can complain, she’s peeling her dress off and revealing lacy, black lingerie that leaves his mouth dry. “Like what you see?”

He can’t even respond, instead pressing heated kisses against her chest. She squeals when he takes a pert nipple into his mouth, sucking on her through her lacy bra. He reaches behind her and unhooks it swiftly. It makes her snort. With a sheepish grin, he unwraps her from her bra like a present and admires her blush colored nipples, hard and ready, and the swell of her tiny breasts. He could take a whole one in his mouth, and he wants to. He wants to wrap his lips around her perfect breasts, so he does.

She moans, lewdly, wrapping her fingers in his long, dark hair. “Fuck,” he says, cheeks against her breasts. “You’re fucking perfect, Rey.” 

She only sighs prettily in response. He takes his time with her breasts, suckling and licking them, taking a pert, rosy nipples into his mouth and sucking, hard, until she’s squeaking beneath him. He laps up her perfect breasts with his tongue and never leaves one neglected when his large hands swallow them up. He could kiss her there forever. Her fingers wrap in his hair and tug when he flicks a nipple with his tongue, takes it between his teeth. 

She’s so responsive. He wants to make her finish like this. She’s already writhing and tugging on his hair like a lifeline. Maybe a little more nipping and sucking and she’ll be coming against him, her walls fluttering around nothing, begging for his cock inside her. Ben doesn’t usually put out on the first date, but there’s nothing he wants more than to be nestled inside her wet cunt, her perfect pussy milking him for all he has. 

Instead, she pushes him away. “Inside me,” she says as she begins tugging at his belt. It’s too perfect. She _wants_ him the way he wants her. He can barely breath as she unhooks his belt and unbuttons his slacks. Whatever his trousers were hiding, his underwear showcases like a perfect tent. 

She takes him in her hands immediately, over his underwear, and squeezes. Ben groans into her ear and pushes himself into her hands. “You’re so big,” she says, in awe, a little smile on her face. 

It makes him smile too, maybe a little too prideful. He says, “you’re so beautiful.”

She giggles and releases him. “Take off your underwear, Ben.”

“Anything for you, Rey,” he says while he removes himself from his black boxers, springing forward. Then realization dawns on him as he creates more space between them. “I don’t have a condom.”

She frowns. “Neither do I.” She sighs, running a hand through her messy hair. Then, she says, “I’m on birth control.”

It takes Ben a moment to realize what she’s implying. He swallows. “I’ve never not used a condom before,” he admits. 

“We don’t have to!” she adds quickly. “But I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too,” he says, and then lowers himself back onto her and let’s his cock bob at the seam of her underwear, angry and red, leaking precum onto her lacy black panties. “Fuck, Rey.”

Her pretty green eyes are closed, mouth parted in satisfaction. His fingers inch for her panties. When she doesn’t stop him, he pulls them down her slender legs slowly, and deposits them on the floor. 

His eyes widen at the sight of her wet, supple lips. He wants to open her legs wider. He wants to see inside her slit, so he does, he pushes her legs apart and smirks when they fall even further. Without thinking, he presses a finger into her, slowly, and she sighs. “You’re so wet,” he says, but even to himself he sounds surprised. It’s not like he’s never turned on a woman before, but there’s something about Rey, ripe and ready for his cock, that leaves him breathless. 

“I want you,” she says. 

“Fuck,” he says, pulling his finger out gently. He grabs his cock and aligns himself with her perfect pussy. His head catches near her clit and they both groan. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck.”_

“Inside,” she moans. _“Please.”_

He presses into her further. She’s dripping wet, he slides in so easily: first the tip, then he’s halfway, then suddenly he’s bottoming out, balls deep inside her. He can’t even _move._ She’s so tight, gripping him soundly, and her face, lips red from his kisses and mouth slack, eyes wide and the most beautiful green he’s ever seen… he could come right now. 

He can’t move. Not yet. He’ll come, he’s sure of it. She feels unbelievable without a condom, hot as fire and tight like a vice. “You’re amazing,” he says, rubbing his face into her shoulder. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair gently. “Move,” she says, “please.” 

So he does. He moves inside her slowly at first, and immediately he thinks he’s going to come. He even wants to. He wants to fill her to the brim, until she’s spilling over and his come is dripping onto the sheets. He wants to plug her with his cock and keep her there forever, just full of him, hands in his hair. 

“Faster,” she says, and he obliges. He pistons into her until he hears his balls slap against her. The couch moves with them. She wraps her legs around him tightly, bringing him even closer. “I love the sounds you make.”

He hadn’t even realized he was groaning, deep into her shoulder with every hard thrust. He’s losing himself. He doesn’t want this to end, but he tells her, “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, please,” she tells him, tugging on his hair. He can feel her squeezing her pussy, impossibly tight on his cock. 

His hands find her clit immediately. “Come with me,” he says. 

“Fuck, Ben.” Her eyes are closed now, long black lashes thick with mascara brushing against her cheeks. She still looks perfect, maybe a little bit of eyeliner running under her eyes, one of her eyebrows a little smudged, but she’s beautiful. Stunning, with the perfect narrow nose he wants to nuzzle and cheekbones he wants to kiss. 

He circles her nub with his thumb and she’s moaning prettily, squirming underneath him, hands tight on his hair. He’s trying. He wants her to finish, but he’s so close he can feel it. His balls are tight, his cock is pulsing, and he wants to finish inside her more than he’s ever wanted anything on the planet. More than he wants to be playing in the game that’s on tonight. More than the Stanley Cup. 

His release hits him like a punch in the gut. He can’t control himself any longer. He spills into her and it feels victorious as she comes around him almost immediately. His cock twitches and releases himself inside her, overflowing, but it’s the walls of her cunt that make it last, pulsing around him and dragging him back into her with her orgasm. He knows he’s cursing, and groaning into her shoulder, but he can’t help himself. 

It feels like it’ll never end, but when it does, he peppers her face with kisses and she laughs, dreamily, beautifully. He thinks he could listen to her laugh all day, especially like this, softly and sweetly while he’s inside her. 

He pulls out of her slowly, taking a seat against the armrest, and she sits up on her end of the couch, leaving a space between them. She’s completely naked, with her thighs shiny and coated in his come. She looks perfect. He’d take her again right now if he could. Finally, he says, “that was incredible.”

She nods her head with a sigh that turns into a laugh. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

He frowns. “Don’t clean up yet.”

She laughs. “You’d just keep me like this forever, wouldn’t you?”

He snorts. “Maybe.” Definitely. He never wants to leave this couch—except maybe to make it to her bed. He wants her legs to stay sticky and slick. He wants her chest flushed with his attention. 

She closes the distance between them, shifting into the middle seat on his couch. She presses a sweet, short kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Ben,” she says. “Now, I’m going to the bathroom.”

He sighs dramatically.

Naked, he watches her walk through her apartment, his cum dripping out of her, body still flush with his ministrations. When she’s finished, reaching for his button down on the floor, she tells him to stay.

“I’d love to,” he agrees with a smile, and Rey happily takes his hand and shows him to her room. 

* * *

**@hockeynews:** @BenSolo spotted outside restaurant in Brooklyn with mystery woman during his time off the ice. How does a man go from murder on the ice to hot date?

**@bens-hoelo replied:** WHO IS SHE 

**@bensolosgirlfriend replied:** not my mans on a date with another woman :’(

**@softforsolo replied:** I JUST WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY OK?????

* * *

Ben skates onto the ice with his usual chip on the shoulder missing. 

He feels calm and relaxed tonight. Usually after a certain amount of time off the ice Ben finds himself laden with aggression and murderous instinct, after his release being taken away for so long, but he finds himself the opposite tonight. Perhaps it’s because it isn’t the game that he’s looking forward to. Ben has other things to look forward to, now, to release his aggressions. 

Ben doesn’t make a habit of looking into the audience. For some reason, he’s attracted a hoard of teenage girls that love to stalk his games and internet presence—not that he has one. The first thing he sees are signs with his name on them being held by young girls wearing his jersey, and he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. They have no shame—though he probably didn’t either at that age. Perhaps he should judge less. 

Then he sees her. She doesn’t have a sign like she teased she would, with hearts and his number. She is wearing his jersey, though, one she stole from his closet, actually, over a turtleneck and tight jeans. She has on no makeup with her hair pulled back, but that bright smile is impossible to miss no matter how far away he is—and she is smiling, now, a pretty smile, just for him when she realized he was looking at her. He smiles back. 

It’d been an easy decision for her to attend his game, even with cameras present. She’d been _dying_ to see him play, even if she didn’t seem to have any knowledge about the game of hockey (she _had_ referred to a goal as a homerun). She didn’t want to watch at home, and Rose could easily get her a ticket. 

He had shrugged his shoulders and she began her trek into his closet for a jersey of her very own to support her new favorite player. 

He hadn’t told her, but he wants her to come, anyway. She makes him feel calm, much less aggressive, like he could get through an entire game without so much as a penalty. 

Stranger things have happened. 

* * *

**TMZ:** SPOTTED! Actress Rey Johnson at Madison Square Garden wearing offense Ben Solo’s Jersey! Sources saw them leaving together at the end of the night. 

**@bensolosgirlfriend replied:** I don't even know which one is hotter

**@bensolosleftbicep replied:** WHAT YES I LOVE HER NEW SHOW!!!!!!!!

**@reyjohnsonHQ replied:** our queen always lookin fresh!!!!!

**@bens-hoelo replied:** ok I ship I ship 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @/bensolosgirlf


End file.
